


Once Upon a Time in the Woods

by brutti_ma_buoni



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/pseuds/brutti_ma_buoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gen is both a wereflying-squirrel and in denial about being in love with her landlord. The combination sucks. Jared has ideas about improving her life, but is it something Gen can live with? (for the genteensybang ficathon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Time in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> **Art Masterpost** [IS HERE](http://knockoutloser.livejournal.com/3978.html) and you should definitely go and see the rest of the lovely [](http://knockoutloser.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://knockoutloser.livejournal.com/)**knockoutloser** 's art!  
> 

(Art by knockoutloser, and totally not by me!)

"The flying squirrel is a marvellous beast. Few mammals can claim to experience such freedom in the air, yet it has all the advantages of a land-based, warm-blooded creature, capable of using its paws, foraging for food and giving birth to live young-" 

"Why are you watching this?" Jared ruffled Gen's hair in passing, in the kind of way that large annoying friends sometimes do to those of more sensible height. Gen, as so often, ground her teeth in silent irritation and reminded herself of all the reasons why Jared made a half-decent landlord. (Low rent for people he liked. Prompt attention to maintenance issues. Goofy fun company when you needed it. Generous with barbecue. Prepared to rent her a pretty, clean room with direct garden access and nice trees immediately outside. And, yeah, also the being-a-vet thing was helpful.) She didn't bite him with her possibly rabid teeth. Not this time.

"It comforts me." Gen snuggled closer into her Special Blanket for Comfort Purposes, which only got an airing at this time of the month. "Reminds me where I came from. What I am."

_The squirrel mates in early spring. Here we see the female, raising her brood. The males take no part in rearing their young. This is a one-sided society._

"Dicks," snorted Gen. Her dad was absolutely not like that. And he might drive her insane, but she wouldn't have had that change for absent indifference.

Jared passed her the popcorn, looking sympathetic (and Gen, looking at the large dent in the bowlful of popped kernels, wondered exactly how much butter and corn he had just rubbed into her hair with his huge damn hands). He crashed down on the couch beside her, limbs flailing, hair everywhere. Then tried to retrieve what had clearly been intended as a Good Friend in Need moment of support. "But, Gen, you're not just a squirrel. You're so much more than a squirrel." And, losing the tone of deep sincerity for a second, "Also, you're a squirrel for, like, thirty hours a month. It's not, like, _you_. You're a girl."

"Woman," she corrected, absently. Jared nodded, suspiciously meek. Gen could tell he was still writing her off as a girl, fluffy and negligible. Something about the height difference made it weirdly hard for Jared to take her seriously as an adult. (Not her sex. He treated Adrienne like an equal, and Danneel like a boss.) Which was seriously annoying when Gen had two degrees and was now in a job where she held people's hearts in her _actual hand_ while fitting pacemakers. Not a job for a fluffball.

(Or, dammit, a flying squirrel. Thank god for shift work.)

"And no, I know. I'm out and proud. I own the flying squirrel within." Not technically true. Gen tried to keep the were thing fairly quiet. But this was not, for obvious reasons, the first time Gen had talked wereflying-squirrel-ness with Jared. It came up right at the start of their relationship, before signing a contract on the room, because Gen didn't lie to people who had to live with her were. It would probably be the last thing Jared said to her: when, eventually, he asked her to move out because in the end, a roommate who was sometimes a squirrel was less than ideal.

(She really tried not to be a bad roomie. But sometimes, if someone left something too delicious out in a nice high spot that attracted her, she'd wake in the morning knowing there'd be a pile of gnawed shells in the kitchen and maybe some chocolate peanuts socked away among the roots of her favourite trees, for those cold winter nights when scavenging didn't seem like such an awesome way to pass the time. In the end, even her friends got a little tired of the weird. Every time.)

Jared reached a huge shovel of a hand into the popcorn bowl, and scarfed a mouthful of buttery kernels, not all of which made it safely into his mouth. It was gross enough that Gen just knew it was deliberate. He was trying to cheer her up. It was, kind of, working, as Jared's friendliness usually did. "You always talk about the downside of the whole flying squirrel thing," he said, mildly enough. "I think it's just… well, it would be kind of amazing. To be something different, something most of us will never get the chance to experience. To fly…"

He shook his head, embarrassed, and shoved the remainder of his handful of corn into his ridiculously huge mouth. "Yeah. Anyway. I know you don't like to talk about it." He lapsed into silence, turning his gaze to the TV. The flying squirrels on screen were doing some kind of mating ritual. Gen tried to ignore the hotness.

The hotness on screen. The flying squirrel hotness. Okay? Totally not the hotness of her 100% human landlord.

She'd never thought of Jared that way. Nu-uh.

*

It started way back, even before Gen first went through the change. Her dad was especially passionate about it. "You don't marry out," said Papa Cortese to his little girl. "Maybe a weresquirrel, if you can't get a flyer, but no werebats, no weredormice and no fuckin' wereweasels, you hear me?"

(Life was pretty tough in the smaller were-rodent communities. The subdivisions were awful.)

And _obviously_ Gen ignored her Papa, because what's a girl (woman) gonna do when she grows up in a tiny werecommunity where Papa's rules mean a simple choice between Tommy (lanky geek, which she could deal with, and no appreciation for jokes, which she couldn't); Nate (actually shorter than Gen, unable to speak to females above a whisper) and Derek (built like a bus, about as much brainpower); or going gay for gorgeous Juliette (except neither of them was actually gay so apart from some very bored party dares it didn’t take them any further)?

(Gen may have overthought this, for a year or ten.)

But her experimentation with guys who didn't go furry over the full moon had been… well, bad. Really bad, mostly. The ones who didn't initially know she was a wereflying-squirrel got weird about her weird – after a few months, something big _always_ happened around full moon. And she got tired of the lying. The ones who _did_ know also got irritated when she missed important stuff at the wrong time of the month, but there were added layers of crappy squirrel jokes (and they _always_ missed out the 'flying' part when they joked); or asking her to eat out of their hands when she _wasn't_ a flying squirrel (Tad, kinky as fuck, and Gen was not a consenting furry, thank you, wereflying-squirrel notwithstanding); or being grossed out by seeing her go through the change and the way her joints thickened and spread; or…

Well. Jon was a little different. Jon loved Gen. Gen loved Jon. Gen wanted to live with Jon. Gen wanted to marry Jon and have his babies. Maybe. In the end. It turned out Jon did not want to marry Gen and have her squirrel babies. Because he really, really did not believe Gen should breed.

Breed. Yeah. Awesome word to hear from the guy you think is about to become your fiancé, and no better for being accidentally overheard when he joked with his best buddy about needing a vasectomy so he didn't sire a squirrel litter and-

After Jon, after the retreat from pain, and the months of mourning and the vodka nights, after all that was done, Gen knew two things: she needed a change, and she was never going to go not-were again.

_Jared and his cheesy grin full of comforting popcorn remnants are just not an option._

*

It was six months after Gen moved here that she really found her feet. When she dropped her groceries at (and _on_ ) Danneel's feet and over subsequent coffee and apologies made a friend for life – or at least, so long as the flying squirrel thing didn’t come between them. And, through Danneel, a crowd of friends who absorbed Gen without a thought. Including Jared, who offered her a room after a bare three weeks, when her previous landlord asked her to wait for a couple of months before fixing the roof leaking onto her bed "for tax reasons".

Jared had said, when he offered her the space, "And… there are big windows. Tree branches practically in the room."

Gen wanted to be angry, but hell, better than having to break it to him herself. "Danneel told you, right? About-"

"The squirrel thing. Yeah." Jared smiled. A really nice smile. Not the smile of a man who wanted her to eat out of his hand. (Not that Tad had pinged her perv-dar at first either.)

"Flying squirrel," she corrected.

"Cool," he said. And left the subject. It is possible Gen fell for him at that exact moment.

That moment was exactly two years and four months ago.

_Fuck my life._

*

She tried. Before meeting Jared and more especially after, Gen tried to think of a way out. Wereflying-squirrelling didn't have to define her. There were treatments. There were even magicks that might help, if she didn’t mind the fairly high risk of being turned inside out and living a short painful life as a reverse-flying squirrel. Or, obviously, she could get sterilised and aim to adopt non-squirrel babies with a regular guy and not risk the whole 'breeding' issue. Jon's way.

But, in the end, she found nothing that worked with where she was in her head. Once a wereflying-squirrel, always a wereflying-squirrel. Papa Cortese would be proud.

Though, honestly, being were wasn't such a great thing.

One night, a while back now, but still so vivid in her memories, she had snagged her leg on some bad wire when out exploring. She struggled home, her small pain-wracked flying squirrel-brain remembering only that this was Home and Safe and Jared, and scratched pitifully at his window till he opened up.

She couldn't remember the detail of what happened after, except that it was reassuringly professional. Her wounds were treated, with soothing accompaniment of Jared's veterinary-trained babble. Stitches and antibiotics, and suitable bedding with (oh god) a discreet space for her to crap.

All from Jared's home stash, for animals in immediate need, and no official veterinary surgery required. All good.

Until she awoke, human sized, naked and with absolutely nothing to cover her.

If she hadn't screamed, it would have been better. (Why scream? For fuck's sake, were-anything knew all about the whole waking up naked and alone thing. The first time it happened, you were about twelve, and it was never ideal, but you dealt.) But Gen wasn't thinking like a were that night, she was thinking like a naked girl (woman) in a gorgeous guy's house. A really dumb woman who could just have grabbed a tee and some sweatpants – okay, maybe not the pants, Jared's legs were practically giant-sized. But she could totally have dressed and run, and thanked Jared later with beer or chili. There was no need for the screaming, and for him to come running, and then do a dramatic recoil and cover his eyes, apologising for not leaving any clothes out, while scuffling blind through what Gen could only hope was his pile of clean laundry.

Almost like he was afraid to look at her.

Which was dumber than dumb. Jared liked girls. He liked Gen. He liked naked girls (though in general was considerate about not drooling on them when roomies were likely to be about). There was no logic to him being scared of naked Gen.

Unless.

But.

And there, Gen's thoughts had had to take a break. Or she would have had to recognise the situation and do some calm, adult things to move on from it. And she maybe, absolutely, definitely, kind of didn't want to.

Eventually, Jared had managed to throw enough fabric in her direction that she was covered, and he checked her stitches, quick and professional on her bare thigh. She thanked him for his medical care and offered payment – quickly rejected – and they went back to pretending there was no there there.

*

So that was then. And this was now, with squirrel documentaries, popcorn, and sharing a couch with denial. Jared's arm casually along the back of the couch in a non-sleazy-move way, just because he was a big guy who liked to stretch. So far, so routine.

But. "Gen?" Jared sounded almost cautious, which was totally un-Jared. "Would you mind if- No. Sorry. Stupid."

Almost, almost she left it. Except, he really didn't look romantic. And he was her friend. Fiercely, that had to be true. "What?"

"What is it like to fly?"

Two years, and he'd never asked. Most people did straight off the bat. It was the obvious question for a wereflying-squirrel, honestly, other than, "What the fuck is one of those?"

It was always hard to find the words. For transformation, for being something different, and yet still fundamentally Gen inside. For the fuzziness of brain between selves, for the gaps in her mind after – she knew she'd hidden food somewhere, couldn't remember where as a human. Or as a squirrel, forgetting about tax codes and iPods and capitalist theory in favour of green and danger and food. The flying, in some ways, lingered least; she never could recapture the sense of that small body being her own, of translating the experience of free-fall into what Gen-with-wings might be. But she tried, for Jared, till her half-sentences and failing descriptive powers ran her into silence. Jared just listened, nodded a little. Was not the loud and chaotic Jared of the public space. But then, he often wasn't, when it was just the two of them.

Gen wriggled deeper into the comforter. “Anyway. You know this stuff. Why are we talking about it now?” _When I’m coming down from a night of flying and I’m on edge and vulnerable and probably not more than about 75% human right now?_ He usually left her alone at times like this. Everyone did.

Jared went from so relaxed he was nearly a puddle to a sudden wariness that confused her. This was Jared. He didn’t do wary. Like big dumb dogs and small children, he did instant trust, or instant dismissal if he didn’t like something. This was off.

“Gen… I know you don’t like to talk about it. But, I’ve been researching were-creatures.”

“That’s nice.” Gen could feel her whole body rigid, mouth snapping off the words. Do. Not. Want.

Jared sighed, took the empty popcorn bowl from her death grip, and spoke carefully, not looking her in the eye. “You let me treat you, that one time, when you hurt your leg.”

“I remember.” And Gen had always thought of it as her being in Jared’s debt, not ‘letting’ him help her. Weird, the variance of perspective there. But the reminder made it harder to shut him down.

“Well,” Jared leant back on the couch, still avoiding her eyes. “I got interested, because- Okay, don’t get mad, but I was thinking about how I stitched a cut on the teensy flying squirrel, and then there was you with your normal-girl leg and me fleeing the scene after a quick check up, so I never really worked it out; did the cut get bigger with your skin, did the stitches grow too and how is that even possible? But you weren’t bleeding and going to the emergency room, so I guessed something magical happened and-“

“That teensy flying squirrel is _also me_ ,” said Gen, trying not to let her voice come out as painful-sounding as it felt in her throat.

Maybe it worked. He didn't look at her with actual pity. “Yeah, but that’s the thing, you always hide away when you’re-“ Jared handwaved, “Different. So I never think ‘that flying squirrel is Gen’, it’s more like, ‘this is Gen who is allegedly a squirrel sometimes.’” Whatever Gen’s face did then, it couldn't have been good. He hastily added, “I mean, not that you’re lying, of course not, just- It’s really hard to get the whole magic thing.” It was a lame finish. He flapped his hands again, more apologetically.

“Okay, well first, it’s were, not magic,” said Gen, because if there’s one thing Papa Cortese taught her-

“Yeah, about that. How’s that different?”

Jared looked genuinely confused as he interrupted, so Gen didn’t slap him upside the head so much as give a big exasperated sigh and wish she was somewhere else. With someone else. Or alone, and not a wereflying-squirrel. That would be nice. “Because magic isn’t reliable, duh. It's not genetic. And were’s just this… thing. This thing you are. Because of heredity.” It didn’t sound convincing. “Okay, I don’t really know, but there are studies of our biology and-“

Again with the interrupting. Jared was leaning towards her now, positive and in her space. “But there aren’t. Not good studies. I know you were-guys kind of hide out, but there are plenty of you, and it’s like you don’t even exist from a research point of view. It’s wrong, it makes no sense. You’re a wolf or a donkey or a flying squirrel part of the time, that’s got to affect you physically.”

This was totally Gen’s preferred way to spend the days between the were transformations. A hot guy – okay, a friend she would never _go there_ with, but still an undeniably hot, popular, friendly guy – talking about how she was a freak and one of ‘you were-guys’. Awesome. Could she turn back into a flying squirrel soon, please? Rodent life wasn’t so great, but at least there were no conversations like this one.

Which chimed weirdly with Jared’s, “And if I could maybe watch, someday, when you transform? Like, see how that works for us? Because this would be _such_ an awesome research opportunity. And it would be great for the were-community to have some proper medical support.”

“Jared… you’re a vet.” Flat tone. Not so much with the welcoming. _It’s were-community now. Not ‘you guys’. But apparently we only get animal doctors in our community._

“Yeah, but Misha would _love_ to collaborate, he says it’s got publication potential all over, for medics and vets both. And-“

Not that Gen didn’t adore Dr Misha, freak of nature that he was, but she really didn’t like where this was headed. “So, not so much a spur of the moment thing, then? You have your funding proposal ready? Is there a collaborative journal article lined up for next year?” Yes, she sounded bitter. Dammit, she had reason. She was more than her freak genetics, right? How long, exactly, had Jared been working up to this? Her hackles – teensy wereflying-squirrel hackles, but still, hackles – were raised.

Jared was looking at her with reproach. “Hey, Gen. Not gonna do anything without your support. But I didn’t want to fly a kite and then not back it up. I would seriously love to get back into study, and working with you and Misha would make it fun too.”

Okay. Well, it sort of made sense. Jared had had an improbably brilliant student career for the big dopey small-animal vet he’d chosen to become. And Gen could imagine him goofing around brilliantly with friends like Misha. And if he had been proposing some kind of threeway research collaboration in an alternate universe, sure. But.

“I don’t want to be your lab rat.”

His mouth quirked. “You totally won’t be. You’re a flying squirrel.” Ducking pre-emptively before she could flail at him with deserved retribution, he added, “I know. I know this is hard, and you don’t want the attention. And I thought about it for a long time before I even asked, because you’re my friend and I didn’t want to mess that up. So… maybe just tonight, you let me see you transform, and if it’s all too weird we’ll say that’s enough and I’ll go study guinea pig life expectancy or something.”

One transformation. For a friend who was still looking at her with a whole lot of hope. Gen’s gaze landed on the TV, the rodents gamboling for the camera. She didn’t turn her gaze back, as she said, “Okay. One time. And only human to flying squirrel, right?”

Jared nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course. The other way-“

“There’s a whole lot of naked.” Gen finished.

And Jared laughed. “’Course, you’re totally going to be a naked flying squirrel too. But I can deal."

*

_What in hell made me agree to this? No, seriously, what in HELL?_

Gen was sitting on her bed, antsy as anything. The window was open. Her bedside lamp glowed as the light faded and the moon rose. “It’s coming.”

Jared looked up from fiddling with his cellphone, discreetly far away on her single armchair. “Now?”

Handwavy. “It takes a few minutes, but I can feel the change beginning.”

“Can you describe it?” He sounded professional.

Not really. A fizz of anticipation. A squirl of change as her blood and cartilage and bone and flesh started to make ready for the change. And then, the squeeze, of becoming less. Less body, less brain.

She tried to explain, desperately ignoring the way her voice was shifting, focusing on her hands as they thickened and shrank, stretched her arms out so Jared could see the wings starting to form beneath, even as the room and the man grew and grew, as Gen shrank away from them.

She hadn’t quite lost sentience as she hopped up onto the window ledge, so she heard Jared ask, “Gen? Would it be okay for me to follow you?” She shrugged her tiny flying squirrel shoulders, and soared out of the window into her other world.

*

When she woke, she was in bed. Covered up, but naked underneath. And Jared was still in the armchair. Sprawled and way, way asleep, head back and mouth open. He had drooled a little, and was snoring just enough that Gen started to feel comparatively less embarrassed about the whole flying squirrel-transformation thing. A little parity back in their relationship.

Stealthily, she stirred under the bedclothes, hoping that her usual ratty sleep tee was- Yes, under the pillow, and she struggled into it while not exposing more than an inch of flesh to open air and eventually, triumphantly, popped her head out of the covers. To find that she’d woken Jared with the squirming and he was yawning at her.

“Are you decent under there now? Or should I leave?”

“Nope. All okay. And you’re not supposed to be here.” Gen wriggled into a half-sitting pose. It felt better. “Did you watch me transform back?”

“No! Hey, I promised.” He looked genuinely offended at the question. “I lost you, after a while. Seemed wrong to leave you out there. I waited till I knew you were back.”

“And stayed to watch over me, O Gentle Knight?” Gen flinched at the sharpness she’d forced into her voice. But it was invasive, that he’d watched her against their agreement, and she needed to remember that, not go internally squishy over his care.

“I meant to go,” he said, sheepish as hell. “But it’s comfortable here. I had your comforter, and-“ So he did. It was tangled under his feet now. Outside shoes all over the soft, pale wool. “Uh, sorry about that. I just fell asleep, I guess.”

"No problem." Well, kind of a problem. But not a problem Gen cared to fix here and now. She closed her eyes. Maybe soon Jared would leave, and the whole experimental flying squirrel thing would recede into memory.

Yeah. No. That wasn't happening. After a few moments playing possum (yeah, hilarious), Gen opened them again and struggled up to sitting. There was a day to be faced, and she couldn't hide under the covers all-

Jared started to focus as she rose, sharply and unwelcome. “Hey! Is that my shirt?”

“Um. Yes?” It came to her knees, and exposed one shoulder completely, frayed collar impossibly too large for her frame. “It’s possible I stole it from your Goodwill pile.” She shrugged. “I used to sleep in one of Jon’s. And I hate silky stuff. And you were throwing it away. So…”

“Yeah. Okay.” He looked oddly not okay with it, for the supposedly easy-going guy that he was.

"I feel a little weird, on my skin, between transformations," she offered. "Old clothes are better. I guess everything gets scraped back and forth, with the fur appearing. Or whatever." A nugget of distracting information, perhaps. Remind him about possible science, not how she liked to sleep naked under his old shirt.

“Can you remember what you did last night?” Jared dropped the whole shirt thing, right on cue. (Which was _good_ , remember, Gen?) He had scientist-face on now. “I mean, how much memory hangs around?”

“It’s fuzzy. The easy parts are probably the parts you saw. I know exactly what it feels like to go out of this window, into that tree. It’s leafy right now, so it tickles and brushes and it takes me a little longer to get around than in winter. But it’s fun: soft and friendly. And the whole line of trees down towards the woods, that’s all familiar territory. I couldn’t honestly tell you what was last night and what’s just an amalgam of flying squirrel me.” She paused. “I know last night was a good flying night. Clear and airy, and the right sort of breeze to just catch my wings.” She had soared, and that had definitely been last night. The memory of the freedom sang fresh and clear.

But that was all. She shrugged. “Otherwise… what kind of flying squirrel memories did you expect? Probably I ate some nuts, jumped about, maybe got a little scared-“

Jared said, “There was a fox.”

Her spine froze. “Did it-“ She didn’t know how to ask, exactly. She was here, and whole, and any big fox injuries would have shown themselves. But maybe that wasn’t the real question. “Did you freak?”

He laughed. “Um. Yes? I may have shouted at it, sent it away. Not very scientific of me.” He was avoiding her eyes. “Sorry. I lost you then, guess I scared you too. But I had to wait till you came back safe- Look, you’re gonna think I’m an idiot, but I never really thought of you being in danger?” He sounded tentative, like she might take offence. “I mean, you’re Gen. You're little, but you could take a fox, you know it. But you were this teensy little flying squirrel and-“

“Hey!” Gen couldn’t resist a little defence of her were-self. “I may be small, but I am _way_ faster than you, Mister. Faster than a damn fox, too.” Which was true, on a good day, though her wings weren’t so much a help as hindrance on the ground. There must have been good foraging or she would never have risked ground level. Too many big things that didn’t bother her up in the trees.

She had made Jared laugh, which was good. Too much emotion too early in the morning. He stood up, unfolding ridiculously, endlessly, from her real-person sized chair. “I know. You’re, like, invincible flying squirrel girl. I apologise for doubting your powers. You want some coffee?”

She nodded. He headed for the door, then paused, hesitating. Turned back to the bed. “I’m really, really glad you’re okay,” he said, simply, and planted a kiss, square in the middle of her forehead.

It was the kind of kiss you could give to a toddler, to an aunt, to a good friend who hadn’t been recently eaten by foxes. It sent the whole of Gen’s body into a tingle of _want_. As she watched Jared out of the room, all she could think was, “So, that happened. So much for denial, huh?”

*

Gen considered hiding in her room forever. Or calling Danneel for an emergency relocation service that would take her many miles away from Jared fucking Padalecki and his research interests, his stupidly large hands, and his friendly, Platonic kisses.

But, there was coffee. And also self-respect, so she eventually washed up, dressed and followed the scent of espresso roast to the kitchen. Jared was perched on a kitchen stool, most of the way down what Gen guessed was his second mug. He inhaled those morning coffees, oddly for such a laid-back guy. She loved the way his eyes closed, savouring more slowly, once he got to the second cup, like it was expensive wine or rare perfume. (And when exactly had she done all this observing? Because this was in no way the first time she had noticed it. She was _anticipating_ every move.)

When he heard her slipper-shuffling footfalls enter the room, Jared pushed a full mug in Gen’s general direction. Communion with the sacred beverage was silently observed for a little. Then Jared took a breath, one of those that Gen recognized as Serious Business Ahoy now. “So. Too weird?”

“I… don’t know. Not really weird? But I don’t think you’ll get much important research done just watching me transform now and then.”

He shook his head. “No, sure. We need a research proposal, a real project design, probably more subjects too, in case there’s something very particular about wereflying-squirrels. And when we know what we’re asking, maybe then I’ll come back and really ask you to be part of it.”

Okay. Sensible. Gen looked down at her hands, her human hands, pink and unscarred by a night of flying through the treetops. Waiting for Jared.

“Except,” he finally said. “Except- I mean, I still think the medical side is so important. We don’t serve the were community well by ignoring these amazing physical changes that you all go through. But-“ Breath of Significance yet again. “Gen, if even I never realized what the dangers are – and I’ve been thinking about you for years – what about the rest of society?”

Gen’s stomach had done a small, happy flip in the middle part of that speech, but the end of it just confused her. Jared was looking so earnestly in her direction, like she should be picking up the conversation and running… where?

She didn’t, and eventually he went on. “I mean, there’s no support. And there’s all that prejudice, like your dickwad ex and all that. And half the were community turns into these teensy vulnerable animals but nobody arranges any protection at all. You could have died last night, and it wasn’t even a big deal to you. Why aren’t there, like, were-nurseries, or were-hospitals, places you can hide out in safety?” Gen’s face probably did something negative, then, because Jared waved a hand and added, “Or parks, where you can be outside but not in danger and- Why is nobody helping you?”

Papa Cortese said out of Gen’s mouth, “We help ourselves.” She blinked, surprised by her own reflexes.

Jared said, “Sure. But other people could help too.”

He sounded so _sure_. She tried to get him to understand. “People don’t like were. We’re freaks. They don’t mind, so much, knowing that we’re out there somewhere. But they don’t want to think about it. Or pay for it, you know?”

“Yeah. I know. And it makes me furious.” Jared grinned at her, fiercely, passionate in defending her weird. “There should be support groups. And awareness marches. And politicians should have to care about were-citizens. And- What?”

She was laughing. “Jared… you’re just realizing this now?”

He looked embarrassed, who knew why. "Um. Not completely? I mean… You're my friend, Gen, and you had such sucky luck before, with those stupid guys, and I did some reading… but…" It was weird, seeing Jared so antsy and blushing. As though he was expecting her to throw a fit. He gulped a little, and got his words more under control. "I mean, when we first met, I thought you were amazing, but you were so hurt, there was no way- And, you know, we're friends, and of course I'm interested. So I read up. And then I had the research idea and- I get you're probably not looking to be the poster girl for were. But I look at how stupid people are about you, how nobody sees you as just… you?"

He stuttered to a halt, still trying to talk but not putting words together. Gen listened to what he was saying, under all the word salad. _I like you. I think about you. I see you. You were hurt, so I didn't push. Were is a part of you, and I'm okay with that. I really like you._

She looked down at her coffee, remembering past bad. Then up at Jared, remembering recent years of fun, of not judging, of being good together.

They were safe, like this. She could keep on being Jared's friend. Maybe help out with the research, because he was right: were needed help, and a medico-veterinary study, some awareness raising and campaigning, that was so important. And they were welcome allies, needed help. It would be all good.

Or, she could-

She let go of the mug, and stood up. Walked over to Jared. Dammit, Papa Cortese was wrong about his rules. She knew that.

"So," she said. "I've been in love with you for… a little over two years now."

It felt all wrong. But perfect. Jared's mouth was a little open, like he didn't know what to say.

"I really tried not to be. I think you did too. But…"

"Yeah." It's all Jared said, but his whole face was breaking into a smile. A Jared smile, miles wide, joyful, lightening the whole kitchen, banishing Gen's sense of fear.

She hopped up onto his lap. Which was easy, because he was huge, and she was small and limber. They fitted ridiculously.

They hadn't even kissed.

She said, "I want to have your flying squirrel babies."

And he laughed, and stood up, sweeping her up with him. "Really? Now? I'm totally ready. In all possible ways."

She gulped back the faintest hint of Jon-based tears. He was so damn sure, the big dumb perfect brilliant human male that he was.

"Not yet. Let's go for a walk in the woods first. Maybe scare a fox."

She looked down at his smile, the slight memory of fox-fear sending it wobbly. Her hand under his chin tipped him up just right for her kiss.

It was pretty epic. Possibly even worth waiting two years for.

 

***


End file.
